I went away on a retreat with a bunch of lovely ladies a few weeks ago.  One morning we were talking about food (as women often do) and families (as women often do) and being too busy (as women *never* do ), and the topic of menu planning came up.  “Oh, y’all should check out my website!  I post weekly meal plans *every* *week*.”  Yeah, that was a couple of weeks ago, and I put up nothing:  classy.

But that doesn’t mean we weren’t eating.  We’ve been eating … and eating … and eating.  The week after the retreat, I went to my folks’ for a “retreat with two small boys, one of whom decided he would prefer to be attached to mama at all time as well as weep and wail and gnash those darling little molars while falling asleep or at 2am or both” – not necessarily so restful, but rejuvinating in that I didn’t have to cook or clean for seven blissful days.  And I could watch a number of NCIS marathons (a show that has been endeared to me since finding out that the writer/producers also created Magnum, P.I., one of the sacred Trinity of TV Childhood Favs).

While at the Mama & Pappy’s, I could also indulge in a guilty pleasure:  reading books about health/frugality/green/sustainable living.  Why is that guilty?  Because everytime I read these books (or watch Oprah), I freak out about all the bad things that could infiltrate my family’s health and purge the nasties.  Organic grapes and strawberries:  a must.  Homemade laundry detergent:  on top of my laundry machine.  Flax seeds and antioxidents:  regular part of my diet.  Buying disposable diapers:  a shame and guilt-laden experience.  Using paper towels and paper napkins:  rare, but also guilt-laden.  Unplugging any appliance that hasn’t been used:  compulsive and sometimes theraputic.  Bad plastics:  being weeded out.  Becoming a member of a CSA:  first pickup’s in a few weeks.  Positive, happy, healthy thinking:  work in progress, kinda shoved down the list …

I’ve been banned from watching Oprah pretty much because Hubby comes home and I say, “So Oprah says …” and then life changes, or I live in the anxiety that I don’t know what or how to change so that BPA doesn’t infiltrate our drinking water and thereby corroding our systems so that we grow third arms.  It’s totally irrational and illogical:  I’ve swam in the Willamette.  Repeatedly.  I am DOOMED.

My idealist kicks in, and I can’t get it Right, and then I my mind shuts down as I start projecting out, thinking about planting a garden and harvesting everything and spending time ordering ginormous bags of locally organically grown grain to store in Safe plastic containers and grind by hand into my own bread and use organic butter that I get after a day’s walk to and from McMinnville because using my car would cause too big of a carbon foot print, and then I find myself with only enough energy to say, “Could I get some ketchup with that, too?” as I lean out the car window to pick up my hard-worked-for dinner offerings from the House of Dave Thomas.

So I read these books at my parents’ house.  Because their tanks to deal with The Crazy are much fuller (and more experienced) than my poor lives-with-the-daily Hubby.  And they find some of it interesting (hmm: wonder where I get it?).  And they have years and years of knowing how to temper me:  “Why don’t you take baby steps? … You know, instead of planting a garden, investing money in knowing *where* your food comes from is a great first step …  There will always be other years ….  I’ve found an herb garden is pretty easy to grow”, aka. oooh, here’s a direction to move in, oh all-or-nothing one.  They know not to make “You’re wrong” statements or “That won’t work” because look at the head-strong one go charging in that direction.  Plus, they’re just as all-or-nothing as me, oh move-to-the-farmland-Idaho-suburbs-to-by-acreage-and-grow-a-huge-garden-and-raise-animals-because-our-experience-of-living-in-the-urban-South-and-Germany-and-Tacoma-prepared-us-for-situations-such-as-these parents.  I’m just sayin’ …

This last time I read The China Study.  I let Hubby know I was taking it.  “This is the book that my friends read, and they stopped eating meat.  I’m just warning you.”  I read it; I enjoyed it; I believe the author – he’s not a whack job.  I haven’t gone bonkers yet.  I must admit, The Crazy One looks at animal products and thinks, “These promote cancer:  DOOM!”  But The Tempered One says, “Baby steps to four o’clock.  Baby steps to four o’clock”.  So we had Vegan Week in which I cooked vegan dinners.  I thought they were yummy, particularly since two meals required peanut sauce (mmmm).  And to celebrate the end of vegan week?  Grilled cream-cheese-stuffed turkey burgers.  Success.

Honestly I am feeling convicted to be more aware of animal products in my family’s diet, but not crazy.  I need to use things up in my freezer.  And I need to honor my family’s requests for favorites.  Mantra – these are choices to make out of love, not fear, to move us into life, not prison.

This week I used meals from The Sneaky Chef:  How to Cheat on Your Man (in the Kitchen):  a baby step in working veggies and other good stuff into the boys’ food.  I didn’t “hide” things:  I shared what was part of the meal.  And I bonded with my handheld blender:  we needed some quality time together.  Soon it will be quality smoothie weather …. sooooon ….

Monday:  Cheese eggs, cinnamon toast, banana (had to get out the door for MOPS); grilled cheese & turkey, grapes, crackers; Burgerville (Hubby’s half birthday:  woo hoo!  Burgerville’s also very locally/sustainably minded as well, and just plain tasty:  bonus).

Tuesday:  Power Breakfast Cookies (which led to some little peoples’ power poops – oy), sausage, strawberries; Chicken Waldorf wrap, veggies, apples; Italian Herb Chicken, Mighty Parmesan Mashed Potatoes, applesauce, bread, salad (comment:  “Wow!  You really went all out!”  Tried not to extrapolate into “and finally cooked a real meal/meal like my family cooked” – see, holding in The Crazy).

Wednesday:  Blockbuster Blueberry Muffins, cheese; Burly Burritos, veggies, crackers, raisins; Real Man Meatballs w/spaghetti, apples w/pb, salad, bread

Thursday:  Leftovers; Leftovers; Leftovers (seriously needed.  LOOOONG days cooking beforehand)

Friday:  Chocolate-Charged French Toast, cheese, banana; Leftovers (had a meeting that ran long); probably fend for yourself (because I had planned for Turkey Burgers, but tomorrow’s supposed to be quality grilling weather)

Saturday:  French Toast Bites, banana; English Muffin Pizzas, veggies with laughing cow cheese, peaches; Now You’re Talking Turkey Burgers, Real Freedom Fries, applesauce

Sunday:  Leftovers; Leftovers; Top Banana waffles, turkey bacon

In typical tradition, what one child hates, the other loves, and visa versa.

And what one child leaves, the other wears.  Marinara:  the latest facial treatment.

What, no kiss, Pappy?

At least he gets lovin’ in the belly.

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Yes, to complete that sentance, it should end with “Ribs”.  But I don’t want ribs (uck:  thooey:  red meat phooey).  I just want my baby back.  The one with the dimples and the smiles and the sweet disposition.

And whatever model I currently have, I’m ready to send back to the manufacturers.  I want to downgrade!  I don’t want to be on the 3G network!

Right now he’s screaching in his crib.  Because he does not nap.  But he does wake up profoundly early so that when I’m trying to work out and have Me Time (I hear I’m entitled to that, but methinks I was misinformed), he gets to shove his learning table over to right.behind.me for me to trip on.  And for his brother to start laughing and then telling me stories, because he’s awake as well due to someone’s morning vocalizations.  I never knew just how irritated I could be when someone’s trying to talk to me at 6:25 while I’m walking away my pounds and trying to believe Lady Gaga & the Eurythmics who are telling me through my ear buds that everything will be okay if I just dance.

Abe screaches at me. Different from JJ, who just yelled at the world:  Oh, The Injustice of It All!  I must fling myself all about the room!  Abe is very deliberate:  Oh, The Injustice of You!  I must fling myself!  At YOU!  Over!  And Over!

Note:  he knows how to use childlocks.  As evidenced by my glasses lying on the bathroom floor.  Twisted so that one of the ear piece holdy things (can you tell I haven’t slept much? and have been yelled at a lot?) is now perpedicular.  True, they were some seven years old, and had lost a screw so they were held together by dental floss (three times stronger than regular string), but still, I would prefer to be the one to go Office Space on my eyewear.

And yet, he charms everyone in public.  Flirting.  Flashing the dimples.  Pretending to be shy.  Playing hide and seek.  He jumped into the arms of a friend while we were at the library, laid his head on her shoulder, and she had to walk us to the car because he wouldn’t let her put him down.  We are stopped Every.Time. at the store by someone exclaiming how cute he is.  And he looks at me.  And I look at him.  We both know the truth:  one shriek away from a box to Abu Dhabi.

So for right now I’m treating him as any person treats a Bad Cat (no, Aunt Faye, not by shaking my finger and saying, “Bad Cat” in a “firm” tone which leads the kittens to snicker or stare with the You Stupid Human Stare of Scorn).  Two words.

Squirt.

Bottle.

Or as JJ says, “Hey, Mama, why you have a gun?”

Daily Drivel, Little A Adventures, Mama Musings | 2 Comments »

Last week I spoke of my planning:  planning for food, subversively planning to exercise, etc.   I was so excited that I even planned in advance!  Food:  taken care of.  Exercise:  plotting to do the Ouchie I Ache DVDs the day before I don’t have to be so actively parenting (i.e. Bible Study and the weekend) – the day before, because that’s how long the nasties take to set it.  So that way I think, “Hey!  Exercising is fun!  This doesn’t hurt!  I’m in GREAT shape!” as the achies snicker and then come and kick you in the butt – literally.

But then, on Sunday, as I was sitting in the kitchen, realizing the week was mostly mapped out:  I got tired.  “Hubby, I don’t think I wanna do this anymore.”  Yes, it only took me one week.

I’m still following the planning.  We’ve been on top of the food stuffs from this site:

• Monday:  Nest eggs and bananas; fruity chicken kabobs and carrots; South of the Border mac’n'cheese and salad
• Tuesday:  Toasty Os Granola and yogurt; Cheesy Beany roll ups and banana; Super Sloppy Joes and peaches and salad
• Wednesday:  Blueberry Banana Pancakes and cheese and bananas (redundant, but that’s what they dig); Grilled Turkey and Cheese and apples; Chicken and Sweet Potato Enchiladas and applesauce
• Thursday:  Leftovers; PB & J and apples; Leftovers
• Friday:  Pumpkin Chocolate Chip pancakes and eggs; Turkey & Cheese Rollups and apples; Cheeseburger pizza and peaches and salad
• Saturday:  Overnight eggs and cinnamon toast and raisins; Quick Quesadilla Pockets and banana; Pronto Pumpkin Soup and cheese toast and green beans
• Sunday:  Leftovers; Leftovers; Hearty Cornmeal Apple Waffles

The response, again, has been mixed, for everyone.  I’ve found JJ really likes have a cookbook that he can look at rather than the printed off recipes I like to look at.  So at the library I picked up a few cookbooks from the amazing Mollie Katzen of Moosewood fame and plan to plan around that.

What’s been helpful is to keep small goals in mind.  I listened to a podcast about organizing, and the organizing coach said to make six goals for a day:  three business, three personal.  Small, manageable, helps one feel accomplished, or at least if the list can’t pile up too high if I don’t get to them. 

One of my “business” goals was to use the book my mama loaned me:  Unplugged Play.  Playing with the kids seems like it should be obvious, but my Play Tote seems to be filled only with options such as reading books or cooking in the kitchen or “go, play with your toys or your brother or both!”   And somehow we’re all getting a little tired of that, delightful as it has been (kind of like those nine month pants of Abe’s that I just put into storage, not because they didn’t fit, but because I cannot handle seeing them one.more.day.).

So, my goal:  to use two activities out of the book this week.  Because I’m the over-achiever, of course I plotted out activities we could do each day for each age group.  And of course because I apply over-achieving to too many areas of my life, I haven’t done any of them this week.

Then came today.  Today with the children in more placid moods.  Today, which is after yesterday, which was a Hard Day for everyone, which should have required all of us sitting by ourselves to think of what was going on (as Teacher L advises), but looked more like some time with Innianna Jones and Mario for the adults.  Today, when I had a limited window to get dinner in the crockpot.

OR I could play with the kids.

We chose to play.  It wasn’t much:  an activity for Abe’s age consisting of balls, a garbage sack, rolling the balls into the garbage sack and cheering, or rolling the balls by the garbage sack and falling over groaning.  I know:  not much.  But they were so happy.  Abe has been following me around the house with the garbage sack and the balls.   JJ had a better day at school.  And he noticed I bought the Hubby some quality, healthy, all-natural and organic and local Totinos pizzas for dinner, to which he began the firm affirmation that this would be the best choice for dinner.

I think he has chosen wisely.

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JJ is such a funny boy.  Which we all know, as i have a blog basically dedicated to his funniness (or “spiritedness”, thank you early childhood development authors for changing the label from my original “driving me to hide all pointed objects . . . from both of ourselves”).  But the other day while wandering the isles at Mr. Meyer’s:

“Mama, mama, look!  It’s a pirate, just like Bob and Larry!”  Yeah, not so much.

I was feeling under the weather, and JJ told me:

“You go down and lay on couch and eat food and drink water, and I feel you lemon and take care of you, cause that’s nice!”

And because it is that time of year, JJ is getting to open a window a day from his Advent calendar (you know, the Advent calendar my mother-in-law sent last year but I forgot to give to him:  apparently the chocolate is okay, or JJ just doesn’t care).

“Mama, it’s time to open my number today on my Activity calendar!”  That would be a combination of Advent and Nativity. 

I really don’t know what to do with that boy, in so many respects.

It seems the last few times I’ve hung out with my dad, the question has popped up:  “So . . . (insert grandparently “I have all the answers, and even if I don’t, you still have to find the right one” look), what are you going to do for school for that boy?”

Dun dun dun DUNNNNNNNN.

To which I promptly melt, perfectionist that I am, and wail, “I DON”T KNOW!!  There is no good answer!!”  Because I’m melodramatic that way, too.  [Insert my no-bones flop, which I had perfected by the age of one.  That, and the tantrum fall-smack-dabb-on-the-floor-and-become-dead-weight-when-you-tell-me-no-but-only-sometimes-and-you'll-never-know-if-this-is-one-of-those-times-until-you-try-it-so-are-you-feeling-lucky?  What can I say?  I've got mooooves].

Sometimes I think about homeschooling JJ.  Yes, you did read that correctly.  Yes, I can hear the collective world wide web whipping their head about and saying, “Are you crazy?”  And after spending a morning and afternoon in which JJ did not.stop.talking., I asked my dad if he thought that was still a good idea, which originally he seemed to be inclined towards.  Now, methinks the inclination is leaning in another direction.

But see, if I did homeschool, I think there could be so many fun opportunities.  And I remember being So Bored at school:  finish a paper, and then wait.wait.wait.wait until everyone else caught up.  And, lately, I’m really enjoying the days I don’t have to leave my house (i.e. driving JJ to school, even though it’s just a 30 minute round trip, annoys me.  A lot.).

Sometimes I think about how dreamy it will be when he steps onto that school bus to be carted away to a wonderful, supportive environment with pleasant children and a nurturing teacher that helps each child reach their true potential.  And then I realize that I’m remembering a Star Trek episode that ended badly with that scenario, and the reality is that public school is, well, public, and I’m not in control, but boy howdy, you certainly learn the language of your culture quickly (I knew all the swear words by first grade, thank you, Ryan and Alex).

There’s always private Christian school.  But oh, the money.  And but oh, I remember friends who went a little “wonky” post-private Christian school, either diving off the deep end into scary places, or walling themselves up in the Evangelical Fortress of Solitude.

So the perfectionist in me melts down because there.is.no.right.answer.  And I’m not certain what to do with my funny little boy.  And I realize this whole parenting thing is some multiple choice but more fill in the blank or essay question.  [Obviously JJ's rocking the lit section, the Pirate Lit section ].

JJ Jawings, Mama Musings | 5 Comments »

Oooh, gadget.

Oooh, somebody else’s gadget.

Ooooh, chatty (really, Hubby is chatty.  Some of y’all know; most of the world, notsomuch.).

Ooooh, pacing while being chatty with somebody else’s gadget.

Let’s hope he also picks up the Hubby’s mad Iron Chef skills  (or at least ability to watch countless hours of Iron Chef.  Thanksgiving Showdown was Big Fun.)

Enjoy.

“Bahy.”  [Wave]

Little A Adventures, Random Remarks | 2 Comments »

“Mama, maybe we should do a prairie quest.”

“Pardon?”

“You know, a prairie quest.  It’s for things like owies, and sickness . . . ” (numbering off on his fingers)

“You mean a prayer request?”

“No, a prairie quest.  Like at school!  It’s for things like owies, and sickness . . .” (again, with the numbering).

“Oh, have you given a prairie quest?”

“Yes, for my cough.”

“And what happened?”

“It didn’t work.  I still cough.  But I can still give it again some other time!”

JJ Jawings, Random Remarks | 2 Comments »

At 6:35 this morning:

“Mama, there’s a noise in my room, and it’s clapping clapping like ‘splat clap’ all the time and all over and everywhere and it’s loud clapping!” – The window was dripping water onto the frame.

Yesterday in the car:

“Mama, is O (friend from school) 5 yet?”  “Nope, her birthday isn’t until Monday.”  “Oh, well, she turn 5 and eat a cupcake.  And I turn 5 and eat a cupcake.  Is that a good idea?”  “Sure.”  “Okay, maybe tomorrow.”

This afternoon in the car:

“So, did you have a good time at Bible Study?”  “Yeah.”  “Did you play with Miss Lisa?”  “No.”  “Why not?”  “She in jail.”

Anytime JJ sees a male of African American descent:

“Wook, Mama, it’s Brock Bama!”

Anytime Abe coughs:

[Rushing over to put his hand on his chest]:  “It’s okay, Abe, it’s okay!  You awright.  You my big boy.”

Here’s why he needed to comfort the Little Man.  Thank heavens the Darth Vader infestation has left the bronchial tubes.

JJ Jawings, Random Remarks | No Comments »

A while ago we noticed an interesting phenomenon after breakfast:  Abe’s tray was littered with little bits of food.  Each morning I make an oh-so-interesting-and-savory round of organic peanut butter and sugar-free jam on whole grain bread sandwiches.  JJ goes through phases where he will scarf it down (followed by grapes followed by cheese followed by a banana followed by club crackers followed by nothing because I was tired of feeding him, as was the case yesterday:  methinks someone’s growing) or he’ll munch on it all morning long.  Abe, however, generally eats what’s before him.

But there were bits.  It wasn’t until I stopped cutting up his sandwiches (some due to him getting bigger, some due to me being lazy) that I noticed what was left:  crusts.  He would take even the smallest piece, eat off the “flesh” of the bread, and politely deposit the crust in his high chair sippy cup holder.  Lovely.  Of course, I could be nice and cut off his crusts ahead of time, but as hope springs eternal, I keep thinking one day he might accidentally let a little bit of crust cross his lips and realize that crusts are not in fact evil but quite digestable.

Last night, those hopes were dashed.

After about two weeks quarentine with Darth Vader children (enter deep breathing noises), I had an outing I could go to on my own:  Book Group!  Discussion!  With adults!  About a funny book!  At a coffee shop!  And nobody wheezing or whining!  So I was looking forward to it a bit . . . .

When I got home and was getting the debrief of the evening, Jason mentioned that Abe finished off the apples I gave him at dinner.  See, for some reason he decided he didn’t want to eat his cheese eggs and apples at dinner, apples I nicely cut up into little wedges for his little fists to grab and shove into his mouth, dripping apple juice down his arms, creating the sticky fruit monster to destroy all the clean surfaces I created this morning.  So I wasn’t so sad about the not eating dinner.  Of course, he chose to eat it a) after I left and 2) after he’d been released from his chair.  Helpful.

But Jason noticed an interesting phenomenon:  Abe wouldn’t finish eating his apple wedges.  He’s shove them in his mouth, wander around, and bring Jason bits that he decided weren’t worthy of digestion.  Do you know what bits these were?  Oh yes:  the apple peels.

It gets better.

Jason asked me if Abe had been doing this before.  I said I didn’t think so.  He asked if Judah cleaned up Abe’s messes.  I said rarely.  Jason opened the garbage can to show me what he saw when went to throw away the Rejected Bits:  apple peels stuck to the top of the garbage can.

Lovely.

And so I have one of Those Kids.  I’d better start cutting of his clothing tags and getting rid of the cute but potentially itchy sweaters now.  Or maybe I could just invest in a really good, grow-with-you Bubble.

Daily Drivel, Little A Adventures | 1 Comment »

I am an anticipator.  Looking to the future, I ponder as many possibilities, outcomes, potentials as my little multitasking brain can wrap around.  In high school my backpack was notorious for being a replica of Mary Poppin’s Legendary bag:

Lip jive:  check.  Pens:  check.  Books for school:  check.  US Magazine:  check.  A crossword puzzle ripped out from Rice Bowl’s People magazine:  check.  Deck of cards:  check.  Elmo bandaids:  check.  Lotion, bible quizzing study cards, a scrunchy, a nail file, a mix tape:  all checks.  Because you never know what you’ll need, and you never know when you might be (gasp) bored.

[I now am equipped with an in-house almost-athletic-trainer to take care of the knotted muscle I developed from lugging that backpack around, on one shoulder, cause that's how we rolled.]

This morning I got up early:  it was dark, cold, rainy, but I got up to ensure time for shower, clothes, hair goo, and face paint.  Earrings, a nice shirt, black shoes.  Why?  Because it’s Bible Study Day!  The one day of the week I can be guarenteed adult conversation with beautiful table settings and yummy, everflowing beverages and CHILDCARE!  You know:  Me Time.

Now, yesterday I thought Me Time might be in jeopardy.  The Eldest stayed home from school with a weird bronchial thing:  wheezing, “Mama, I’m not sick!  I go to school!”  “Sorry, son, why don’t you go back to practicing your Darth impression on the couch?”  But by the evening, all evil Jedis seemed to have retreated, so I thought we were in the clear.

I did not anticipate both children getting up before 6:15.

I did not anticipate one leaking out of his diaper.

I did not anticipate the other one spewing all the contents of his stomach on the placemats I had just cleaned and the Really Big and Heavy Blanket resting on his lap.

I did not anticipate the youngest playing in the toilet, the unflushed toilet, splashing the contents all over the floor for me to step in and all over himself (who had been cleaned last night).

I did not anticipate being handed a ziploc bag containing stomach contents (he likes bags more than bowls) that had a hole in it, leaking contents onto my pants.

I did not anticipate having to change everyone’s outfits multiple times today.

I did not anticipate the toilet not flushing after I used it because the splasher shoved the empty toilet cardboard thingy into the toilet.

I did not anticipate going through SoManyChloroxWipes in so few hours.

I did not anticipate.  But despite that, I did get to experience:

My tablescape turned into a bathroom scape:  toilet paper bits scattered tastefully about.

My study turned from Bible characters to Richard Scarry characters and cowboys and octopi:  an hour+ reading every library book we just checked out. learning about managing busy days and enjoying friendships.

My greetings turned from adults to children:  a boy running to give me a hug after getting up from his nap, and another gleefully running to hide behind the shower curtain, leaving his itty bitty toes poking out.

My beverages turned from coffee to Pedialyte popsicles and sugar-free cider:  both locally brewed and enjoyed on the couch while snuggling.

My political conversations turned from voicing opinions to voicing noticings:  “Mama, that’s Brock Bama!  We vote.”

My chatting with friends in person turned into chatting online and on the phone:  important information was still shared.

I did not antipate this day.  I could have been cranky (and was at times), or I could be grateful to get to use other tools in my backpack.  I hope it was more of the later (which I can say, knowing that I might get some adult contact in a few minutes:  that whole “converting all of my employer’s software” excuse is only going to last for so long ).

Daily Drivel, Mama Musings | 2 Comments »

Last night, when trying to discern the answer to the nightly question:  “What the heck are we going to have for dinner?!!?”, I thought it should go with the theme of the night, you know, The Election.  Something to celebrate the end to the tv ads, something to commemorate the ceasing of throwing five or six mean mail advertisements straight into the recycling bin.  And yeah, I suppose something to note that this was a bit of a historical event as every.newscaster.and.media.person liked to remind us (I kept thinking, Isn’t every election historic?  In someway?  Even if they only served for a little while, history will Still Know.  But enh, what does this history major know).

Now, the weather has turned in Oregon.  The coats and galoshes are out, folks are recognizing they need to replace their windshield wipers, and I’m back in my hiking socks and full-body long johns (which momentarily I thought about how late in the season it was that I hadn’t needed them, and maybe I was turning into a warm-blooded human after all these years:  I was wrong).  So what sounds good for dinner?   What sounds electoral?  Soup?  Enchiladas?  Sausage and bean casserole?

Nope:  how about Barack Obama Chili!  Now, I’ve tried the “candidate recipes” in the past, which generally consists of cookie recipes, and they haven’t really been all that spectacular.  Plus, some of them are rumored to have been “borrowed“.  But President Elect Barack Obama should know what he’s talking about, right?

Right.  It wasn’t like My Mama’s Chili (oh, My Mama’s Chili, which neither my brother nor I can replicate:  it’s a delicate balance between Oh So Good and Pot of Spicy Bleck), but the noises heard at the dinner table were pretty yummy in nature.  The cheese and green onions really did it for me, and I added salt.  But overall, it was a very enjoyable, and affirming experience, ensuring that the creation and consumption of Good Chili should be had for the next four years at the White House and potentially other important places in the Free World.

Last night, as JJ was bouncing around his room, *not* getting ready for bed, and I was picking up his room, the outcome of his *not* taking a nap, I apparently got cranky.  I remember a friend once voicing about the Mama Monster that comes out after a certain time of night, that everything is fine and fun and games, but then say 8:00pm rolls around, the limit is hit, and then it’s “WHY ARE THESE KIDS STILL UP WHY IS THE HOUSE SUCH A MESS EVERYONE NEEDS TO CLEAN UP AND GO TO BED RIGHT NOW AND BY RIGHT NOW I MEAN FIFTEEN MINUTES AGO!’  Well, she didn’t say it like that, but that’s what this Mama Monster says.

So, apparently my Monster had come out to lead in the nightly bedtime ritual, and my Monster must be cold-blooded like me (despite the warmth of the chili), because JJ bounded into bed, pulling up his covers, muttering, “Mama’s lost her temper-a-ture.”

Yes, son, yes:  in so many more ways than one.  Maybe that’s why you’re so interested in thermometers. 

Daily Drivel, JJ Jawings, Mama Musings | 3 Comments »